


Project Skeptic

by UnholyHelbig



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Holidays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:02:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyHelbig/pseuds/UnholyHelbig
Summary: In a world that is constantly growing in size, Santa can't possibly keep up with all of those Holiday wishes, can he? Project Skeptic is an elite organization that delivers presents to anyone lucky enough to make it on the nice list, and rookie Emily Junk is quickly recruited into a world that she has to hide from her family- and more importantly, her fiance.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Emily Junk/Aubrey Posen
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

_Summer 2019_

**The first thing** that she realized was the taste of blood. It was subtle at first, a light dance across her tongue with a metallic edge. But then it was dry, dry enough to make her want to dart her tongue out against her lips and dull the throbbing edge. She had a headache, that was observation number two. Number three came in the form of the thick restraint against her wrists, burning and unrelenting.

 _You don’t ever trust a stranger, Emily._ Her mothers’ words would echo through her mind like a steel drum against an empty corridor. When she was younger it never made any sense. The mailman was just as strange to her as someone in a dark hoodie with unkempt hair. If they didn’t offer up a handshake was she supposed to remain on high alert? Katherine Junk would be spiteful right about now. Spiteful or worried.

Emily pulled her head back, drawing in a sharp breath as an undeniable ache pulsed against her spine. She was in a chair, one that creaked and groaned under her weight. Her consciousness was barely there but started to spark; there was a fire nearby, she could smell it and feel its heat on the side of her face. The room had a sweet and floral scent to it.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

 _Loud._ God that voice was loud and oh so familiar. Emily wasn’t fully there, her heartbeat deafening in her ears as she made a jumble of noise past her lips. Her whole body was stiff, and she blinked a few times to get used to the coloring of her surroundings, dark and rustic, and she could swear up and down that there was a Christmas tree situated in the corner. It had multi-colored lights and way too much tinsel. It had been meticulously applied branch by branch.

“I hit you pretty hard there, huh?” The voice was calling attention and Emily blinked three more times before focusing. The figure was, in fact, shaded in a deep orange that flickered against the floor sporadically. She was dressed casually, normally. Not like someone who would kidnap a person; a dark green sweater and jeans that contrasted from her deep ginger hair. Her eyes, even in the light from the fire, were sparkling like broken waves. “You’re okay though, you’re strong.”

Emily drew in an easier breath and clenched her jaw, which was sore too. _Claire, Callie maybe even Chelsea_ Emily’s mind was searching for a name to the face. It was her next-door neighbor; she can remember the conversations they’ve had at the mailboxes and the golden lettering on their forest green door. She recalls that this woman has a wife, a music producer that’s too grumpy for her own good, but her name. God, what was her name?

“What’s going on?” Emily asked, swallowing the bloodied taste in her mouth. Her voice was dry enough to be unrecognizable. “Where am I?”

“That’s classified, I’m afraid. But we’ll get to that depending on how well you take this.”

“Take what? Being kidnapped?” She let out a small groan and rolled her neck again. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t remember much; the walk home from work, the elevator ride up with her neighbor nodding and asking her about her plans for the rest of summer. Emily explained she would work like she always did and struggled to find her keys in her bag. She remembers an earth-shattering pain in her temple and a warm sensation before everything went dark.

The woman let out a deep sigh as if Emily was inconveniencing her. Maybe she was at this point. She sat down on the edge of a leather reading chair that was positioned right across from the wooden seat that Emily was fastened to. It had a large studded back and reminded Emily of something that would accompany a glass of scotch and imported cigar wrapped in gold.

“I’m Chloe, I didn’t’ technically kidnap you, and this is a secret organization dedicated to keeping the holiday season sacred.” She had rushed out her words like a band-aid and Emily wasn’t sure if this woman was completely nuts or if she wasn’t exactly hearing her right over the pounding in her ears.

None of this registered, however, so Emily simply said, “But it’s only June.”

“Oh, I know,” Chloe slumped back in her seat completely, letting her hands hang over the sides of the chair. “We’re _so_ behind schedule. Recruitment was supposed to be in May but being so close to you proved very difficult. There’s a lot we have to catch you up on, Emily.”

“Can you-?” Emily tugged at her restraints, trying not to flinch too hard at the stinging pain that moved through her skin as she shifted. The woman lifted her eyebrows and moved forward, almost as if she had forgotten entirely.

“Yeah, sorry about this. We’re not usually so violent but it’s not every day that you refuse orders from the big guy. You know, don’t you? You work for some big television company.”

Chloe talked too fast, Emily decided. She had an innocent edge about her, and at this point, she didn’t’ care if she had to keep the conversation up. She reached to the side table and pulled a golden crafted letter opener, gently trying to saw through the rope. It came undone easily and Emily let out a relieved breath she didn’t’ know she was harboring. She rubbed the raw skin, eyes searching the room.

It looked like the inside of a cabin that her family used to rent by the lake, from the stone figures all the way to the throw that was draped over the edge of the chair Chloe sat in. It was too eerie, too familiar. There wasn’t a door, that same flutter bubbling in Emily’s chest.

“You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“You hit me in the head. I’m afraid I don’t’ believe you.”

She was scared to move her fingers up to her temple. She was sure it was sticky. She could practically feel the blood that has soaked into the collar of her shirt. Instead, she resided into staring into blue eyes that looked silver.

“Do you believe in Santa, Emily?”

Did she? It was a loaded question. The fiction of it all was ripped away violently when she woke up to her mother’s hand wedged under her pillow when she lost her first tooth. She was a light sleeper. Emily remembered crying as she asked her mom about a bunny who hid eggs and a man who delivered toys in exchanged for burnt cookies and room temperature milk.

“You stopped believing when you were six years old. After that Christmas didn’t’ feel the same anymore, and your mom would let you pick out what you wanted at the store, didn’t’ she?” Chloe asked, “You knew what was under the tree every single year until the tree vanished completely and was replaced by a card with a fifty-dollar bill in it.”

Emily slumped back in her seat, because yes, that was exactly what happened. It didn’t’ feel so sad when her mother told her she was going on a cruise instead of sticking around and dealing with the stress of the holiday season. The way Chloe told the story deflated her. A story that she hadn’t talked about, not even to Aubrey.

“Say you are telling the truth,” Emily started “Say you’re apart of a secret organization that rotates around Christmas… what do I have to do with it?”

The younger woman wasn’t sure why she was entertaining the idea. It might be the pounding in the side of her head or the fact that her bubbly little neighbor had a complete backstory on how her Christmases had played out, but she simply dug her fingers into her sore shoulder and looked at Chloe was expectancy.

“The world is changing, Emily. It’s growing bigger, some would even argue better, by each day. For the past five years it’s been too much for one man with a couple of reindeer to handle, you know? The old guys retired.” 

“Is he now?”

There was sarcasm leaking past her voice. It wasn’t intended, but it spilled out like a pool of steam over fresh hot chocolate. This room smelled too much like cinnamon, Emily decided.

“ _He is_. And when he’s away he trusts in this organization, Project Skeptic, to deliver presents, grant wishes, and keep the Christmas spirit alive.” Emily swallowed roughly. Her mouth still tasted metallic and Chloe’s words hadn’t yet settled with her. “We’ve kept an eye on you, Emily. We know that all you want is to get that feeling back.”

_December 2019_

**Emily pressed her** stomach to the cold of the wooden floor, it’s edge soaking through her jumpsuit in a simple motion. It was the type of cold that she remembered as a child when her bed was given to her older cousin from Kansas and she drooled all over her pillow. She hadn’t even bothered to wash it before throwing it into the trash. Emily had slept on the hardwood flooring for two weeks.

Now she was struggling to hold her breath, letting it catch in her throat as she stared up at the windowpane above her. The sheer white curtains caught the light of a passing car, one that stalled- she could hear the crunch of tires against gravel and practically smell the gasoline that rested in the tank. She pressed her cheek close to the laminate and listened. It eventually pulled away, breath short as she was bathed in darkness once more.

Emily brought her frame back up to a standing position, careful not to let her form show in the large bay window; the house was normal, a large pre-lit Christmas tree that was filled with family ornaments made from Styrofoam cups, the angel on top that seemed to stare her down, and the plate of cookies that were stacked high enough to not only feed one reindeer but twelve.

She didn’t dwell too much on her surroundings. Sometimes it was different. The house wasn’t as decorated, or the tree was a live one. Very seldom was it just a barren wasteland with nothing more than cold granite countertops and a fire that was unlit.

Emily reached against her belt, pulling a simple laser pointer from its leather confines. She felt blindly for the little switch, the thing smooth under her fingertips. She pointed it at the ground, drawing a neat little line with its electric blue light. She could almost taste the charge in the air as she squatted down, reaching her grasp into the clutches of the glow.

This type of technology had scared Emily at first; a simple laser pointer that created a hole in the void to grasp Christmas presents that had already been pre-made. Now it was like second nature, a warmth engulfing her skin as she unshelled packages wrapped in paper with little candy canes and bushels of holly.

Emily learned not to question the size or weight, or the elegantly written _Santa_ on the paper. Instead, she questioned other things: How many parents were in the house? Did the kids have a habit of staying awake? How full was the moon and how visible would it make her?

There was a subtle growl that cut through her little atmosphere like a butter knife through a grilled steak. It leaked grease and edged a deep feeling in the pit of Emily’s stomach. _Were there any dogs?_

She moved her hand over the line of electricity and plunged herself into innate darkness once more, slowly standing as her palms faced the floor. She could hear the rumble in the German shepherd’s chest, practically feel it close to the wooden floor. Its jowls dripped, hot saliva fell in thick strands.

Emily kept her eyes on the animal as it took a step forward. It was blacker than brown, and its eyes caught the green lights of the tree behind her. If it wasn't cheap plastic, the scent would be seeping into her clothing. The dog licked his gums, stepping closer.

Before she could protect her throat, the lights flashed on. They were almost worse than being mauled by a house pet. Her fingers moved against her stare to block out the stage glow, to blink away the afterlight that dominated her vision. There was an alarm too, a loud one that should signal fire but instead brought defeat.

“Emily!”

She let out a deep groan before anything else, slumping her shoulders and shaking her head. Even through the light, she could see everyone rushing around, could hear the door that stood next to the windowpane open and close- a simple little house rigged to produce nightmares.

“We have talked about this,” Chloe let the door fall behind her, “You need to check your compact before you get into the house that way you’ll know if-“

“There are any animals on the perimeter, I know.”

“If you know, then why didn’t’ you?”

Chloe didn’t’ wait for her to answer, instead, she clicked her tongue and had her follow from the faux room and into a standard hallway. Standard in the way that Emily could walk into any building on Wall Street and come in contact with the same generic paintings of beach scenes to make it feel a little less frigid in the winter. The red fire alarms stood out against tan colored walls. Chloe Beale looked ragged and tired.

“As much as I love you, Emily, you’re not going in on your own.” She finally said, breaking the silence. “Do you even have your compact?”

Did she? Emily felt against her waist and she did. It was easy to run her fingers along the extensive little device. It held everything she needed; the ages of the children in the house, what they wanted, if there was any unexpected company like a guard dog- even if it was simulated.

“Of course, I do, Chlo” Emily stopped in the middle of the empty corridor, pressing her fingers against the woman’s elbow. The Kevlar on her black jumpsuit was cool under her touch. “You know how I operate. We’ve been through this training a million times. I’m just… nervous, I guess. A lot is riding on this. Making and breaking Christmas.”

Chloe’s cerulean eyes softened at this. She looked tired. Her skin was pale under the neon lights and her jaw was clenched- nothing like it had been before, the stress of the holidays edging against her frame and making it stiff. “You’re telling me. This is my block- hell, it’s my city. But it’s no excuse to forget what you’ve learned.” She tapped the compact with her fingers. “What we’ve taught you. Right?”

Emily allowed herself to smile softly at Chloe. “Right,”

“Go get changed. We’re meeting 007 tonight for dinner.”

“Oh, Chloe I am not third-wheeling with you and your wife again.” Emily all but whined “She hogs all the noodles. Besides, don’t you two ever get tired of me tagging along?”

Chloe rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked intimidating in the small hallway. “First of all, Beca is the youngest of three, she’d bite your hand off for those noodles. And second of all, no we don’t get sick of you hanging around because you’re family now.”

“You don’t have to take pity on me,” Emily scoffed playfully “Just because my girlfriend is halfway across the country on business 90% of the time does not mean you have to suffer through me at the end of the couch during movie night.”

“We invited you, end of story. Go, get cleaned up.”

Emily saw no benefit in arguing with Chloe Beale. She was already high strung enough as it was, her back straight and eyes always trained on the little clipboard of hers. It sent a quick twinge of guilt through Emily, forgetting her compact like that didn’t help anyone- especially not the crew that set the whole elaborate thing up in the first place. Fake snow and a rabid hologram of German Shepards.

Everything that Emily would have chalked up to insanity seven months ago. Seven long months of working her day job, only to slip into a dingy warehouse on the east side of town. Scanning a badge, she hid among old candy wrappers and half-used Chapstick. No one would go searching in there.

The training had been embedded in her head, by Chloe herself, mostly. She sat in a classroom with unlimited servings of hot chocolate stirred with candy canes. Something she quickly grew tired of- cringing away from the sugary drink now. She had taken the defense courses and the Child Protocol lectures. But her anxiety continued to spike in rebellion, Christmas approaching fast.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, Chloe narrowing her eyes “You can carry your phone, but not your compact?”

Emily ignored the comment and stared at the screen. “Oh, Shit.”

“There a problem?” Chloe asked.

“Nothing major, my mother just informed me that we’re having Christmas at my house this year.”

Her voice was calm, but a flutter of anxiety licked at the back of her mind. That was one of the first things that they had taught her- no connections, plenty of excuses. Most of the people here didn’t’ have anyone depending on them for the holiday season. No obliged trips to church or brunches consisting of runny eggs.

For the past two years Aubrey had to work through Christmas and Emily would travel a few miles out of the city to be with her family for a few hours before she facetimed her girlfriend and they shared a long call littered with apologies, and Emily explaining that it was just a day.

“Oh,” Chloe sounded out evenly “You know what, no big deal. I’ve hidden this from Beca our whole marriage. Some would say it’s concerning how oblivious she is.”

Emily hummed in agreeance. Chloe was shockingly calm about the situation- about having to sneak out right after dinner on Christmas eve. About breaking into houses until the sun rose behind morning clouds.

Chloe must have sensed her worry, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “It’ll be fine Em. Now, go get changed. She’s probably taken out half the restaurant at this point.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I'll have this all done and posted by Christmas. But so far, I hope your holidays are going well. Let me know what you guys think!

_Summer 2019_

**Emily’s mouth was** dry like cotton. Dry enough for it to hurt when she swallowed what little saliva was mixed with blood that she could muster. There was still a stinging pain against her wrists where the ropes once were. They left their ghostly marks behind.

Once Emily volunteered at a veteran shelter when she was seventeen- She mostly worked at the front desk with a woman named Carla. She was nice enough, just out school and looking for something to preoccupy the long stretch of a summer day. Emily struggled to keep her wits about her when it was quiet, but luckily with her, it never was. Not for long.

“You ever work a night shift here, Emily?” Carla smacked her grape gum obnoxiously. She could pick up on the pungent scent. It made her throat tighten as she shook her head no. “Well, you should one day. The ones that are missing things scream at night.”

“Missing things?”

“Yeah, you know. Like arms, legs sometimes. It’s called phantom limb syndrome or something fancy like that. They complain about something grabbing them when nothing is there.” 

Emily thought that sounded awful. So, she nodded simply and continued to stare at the phone wishing it would disrupt the hanging silence with its noisy ring. Even if it was just someone calling for the Chinese place that used to be here a few months earlier. She didn’t know the specials, and this wasn’t a restaurant anymore. That’s what she would say.

A glass of milk was set in front of her and she didn’t hesitate as she grasped it and took four even gulps to somewhat quell that burning. It too left a sour taste against her tongue. She didn’t question it in the slightest- not like someone who had been slammed over the head and taken to a replica of her family’s cabin should. No, because part of her trusted Chloe, and damn, _what was that called?_ Stockholm syndrome. Maybe she had that.

Emily moved the sleeve of her blazer against the thin line of white left on her top lip. She was grateful for something, anything. “I’m lactose intolerant.”

“That’s not ideal.” The side of Chloe’s mouth tilted up in an urge to stifle a smile. “We do have water you know. Most just prefer milk, so I figured.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Mm, a couple of hours.” Chloe took an icy pitcher from beside the glass and filled it to the top once more.

With the way her throat burned, she would have suggested days, but then again, that little haze was lifting away and every part of her knew that if Chloe was telling the truth, then they wouldn’t be so reckless as to inhibit her longer than that. She knew the exact amount of pressure, the right way to keep her down long enough to get her here- wherever here was.

It was a Friday night, and Emily knew that by the way, her bones ached. She had gotten most of her work done at the office, took care of a few meetings and even more interviews for executive assistants.

And Aubrey, god, Aubrey was in the Tokyo office for another three days. So, their loft was mostly empty. At least it would be until they decided to release her from this festive entrapment. Chloe must have sensed the anxiety rolling off of her in waves- or maybe she read her expression. She knelt and put a comforting hand on her knee.

“Hey, you aren’t stuck here, Emily. As I said, we’re not usually that forceful. I just want you to see what we do here. If you don’t like it, if you’re not comfortable, then you can leave.”

“Just like that? You’ll let me walk out of here?”

Chloe sighed heavily “A little mind erasing technology goes a long way.”

“Oh? And let me guess, it’s shot out of candy cane and comes with a side of glitter?”

She couldn’t help it. The snide remarks came out quickly and without precision. It’s how she used to speak to her mother when she didn’t get exactly what she wanted. But after years of working her way up in a company focused on making everything perfect, she learned to hold herself back. She learned to keep her mouth shut even if she was inconvenienced.

“No, but it is mint flavored.” 

Emily figured that that helped, if not a little. Like how they made the foam at the dentist taste like bubblegum. It didn’t matter what artificial taste it provided; it still made her gag. Just like she was sure whatever Chloe had spouted would.

“If you can get your legs about you soon then I can give you a firsthand tour,” Chloe said finally, she was staring intently at the tree like it was the first time she laid eyes on an evergreen. She pinched off a needle in an attempt to preoccupy her hands.

Emily stood, testing her weight and the amount of dizzying pain that ripped through her temple when she balanced herself. She blinked a few times until there weren’t three nutcracker statues on the mantel. Only one with tufts of white hair and a precise uniform.

Chloe had found an exit situated beyond the leather chair that Emily didn’t notice before. Maybe it hadn’t been there at all. Something that they didn’t’ want her to see right away. Her mind swam; was this all just a simulation? All a fake and outdone way to make her feel that Christmas spirit that was left in a cold dark room, shut away from the rest of the world?

They exited the cabin and fell into a stark white hallway that reminded her of a hospital corridor. A liminal space that was meant for transition and nothing more. There was a dark carpet and a couple of paintings that lined the walls. One of a beach and another of a Spanish avenue on a sunny day.

A couple of people bustled past them, barely lifting an eye from current conversations that Emily had half a mind to listen in on. But Chloe was walking fast, and she was struggling to keep up in the first place.

“It looks like an office building.” She said.

“It’s a warehouse on the east side of town by the docks.” Chloe explained “People think it’s a packaging plant and don’t question the amount of traffic we have. On the outside, it’s just that.”

Emily nodded. That sounded familiar- she and Aubrey had been to the fish market a few times and the water was lined with large hanger-like structures with different logos against them. Sometimes trucks drove off with packages, but it was mostly desolate. Chloe was right, not something to question.

“Project Skeptic has been around for a long time, Emily.” She continued as they strode around a corner “It started in the 1920s when demand for everything skyrocketed. Nothing but a few men and women using hairpins and credit cards to push through front doors and leave presents.”

“So, breaking and entering?”

She chuckled “Sure, but we’re much more advanced now. We have the best people in our tech department, and you wouldn’t believe what they’ve come up with. We have complete profiles on everyone that was lucky enough to make the nice list. We don’t even carry around sacks of toys anymore.”

Chloe stopped suddenly and used a keycard against her belt to push into a new room. It felt warmer than the hallway. It was darker too, but without a fireplace. There were a few lamps scattered about, illuminating stack upon stack of books. There was a large mahogany table and a few scattered pieces of tech that Emily could only hope to understand.

She walked towards a podium, something lit up by a small light. “This is the most important thing we have.”

“What is it?”

Chloe gestured for Emily to join her. It was a large book bound in crimson and pure gold. Something fragile, it’s pages brittle with age and use. Chloe ran her fingers over the lettering, it read _Project Skeptic._ Something concrete to the madness around her.

“This has our complete history in it. Everything we’ve done, every Christmas we’ve saved. Every single one that’s been broken.” Chloe swallowed thickly “Including yours… Go ahead, open it.”

Emily swallowed thickly as she pressed her fingertips against the edge of the cover. If this was real if she even entertained the idea of Project Skeptic being a legitimate operation and not the insane ramblings of her neighbor who had effectively kidnapped her. Everything was muddled, behind a foggy glass that she was afraid to break.

She took a deep breath and pulled back the cover to a blank page in the middle of the book.

Inky words started to form before her eyes. She read quickly and quietly as Chloe watched her like an exhibit. Not unkindly but with wonder, maybe watching to see if she would shatter. If she had made a mistake by taking a chance on the TV executive from across the hall. Little waves, while they both grasped at the paper, were no guarantee of calm sanity.

_E. Junk_

_AGE: Six_

_ACTION: Stopped_

_Emily Junk stopped believing, the magic isn’t there anymore and I’m afraid there is nothing I can do to change her mind. All the Holiday cheer in the world won’t break through her exterior. I believe she thinks too much for her own good. Maybe one day that will change._

_Nick_

The entry stopped there. No more seeping color onto a stark white page, nothing else for her to run the pads of her fingers over, seeing if it would smudge. She could feel the indents on the paper. The emotion that cut through the words and pained her chest.

“He wrote this?”

“He writes about everyone,” Chloe said softly. “At first it was to keep track of everyone, to see where they had landed after all these years. But as he got older it was more to remember. He trusts us to do that now.”

Emily swallowed again, the taste sour from the milk, or maybe it was still blood. She couldn’t’ quite tell. She stared at the book with intent, maybe thinking the words would vanish but they never did. They were prominent.

“You never played into that evil streak that he seemed to sense. You simply stopped believing and for some reason that hurt him more than anything. It’s what hurts us the most now because there is no logical explanation for it. The light just goes out.”

Chloe shut the book and revealed that deep red cover again, Emily blinked away the words and stared up the girl. Completely genuine.

“I didn’t realize I was missing it.” She said softly “That thing that you have, and that I lost as a kid.”

“Neither did I,” Chloe said “But it comes back. Eventually, it comes back.”

_December 2019_

**She reached blindly** for the coat rack that rested right next to the door. It was one of the first things that they had purchased for the apartment. All too shiny and pristine until they got the furniture settled and a few throw pillows. All things she left up to Aubrey, because her decorating skills were akin to a rock, or maybe a kindergartener that would smear blue crayon over the walls.

The apartment was pitch black and empty.

Aubrey was away on business again and Emily tried not to think about it too much. Both of them never celebrated the holidays much as a child, and it didn’t mean so much to Katherine Junk until this year- when her brother had welcomed a child into the world. That meant gifts and a do-over. Another kid to wipe the slate clean. She still held her breath and waited for the text explaining that it was all a joke.

She knew it wouldn’t’ come, and she would have to make a trip to the storage unit in the West side of the city to retrieve a dusty old tree and a few hanging lights. She would stock the fridge with eggnog that she could lift from the warehouse if she could get around Chloe. The agency had drained her off all Christmas cheer, she decided, body heavy.

Emily felt her veins freeze as a long creak moved through the apartment. A floorboard that she was meaning to fix, but they had gotten used to it. It never sounded unless it was triggered and their old tabby cat was confined to the kitchen, flicking his tail in the light of the coffee maker. It wasn’t him.

She reached blindly once again, her fingers wrapping around a long black umbrella that rested in the very coat wrack she had just utilized. Her hair was on end as she let the door fall behind her. _Call the police_ her mind screamed at her, but the adrenaline was strong, rolling off her in waves.

Emily could see the inky figure and acted out of pure carnal energy, someone that was nearly the same height of her, her eyes refusing to adjust to the darkness as she slung the umbrella against the strangers chest- their back against the door in a moment’s notice, the loud clang ringing through the apartment.

She had flipped them around completely, had the advantage to reach for her phone and call the authorities, her leg pressed between two knees as she took three deep breathes of lavender, and was that mint? Oh, so painfully familiar.

“Oh my god,”

The figure flicked on the lights, her fingers reaching for the little switch that was right about her head. It took a few moments for her mind to catch up. The solid Kelly eyes, the raised brows and strong stature. Those stupid little pajama pants with French bulldogs over then- “Aubrey, Jesus!”

Emily pulled back and let the umbrella fall to her side, her fiancé pulling in a long and choking breath. “Where,” She gulped “Did you learn that?”

Emily scrambled, searching Aubrey’s face. “I am _so_ sorry, I thought someone broke in, and you’re supposed to be in Amsterdam until Friday, are you mad? You look mad.”

“I’m not mad!” Aubrey rubbed the raw spot on her chest “I should have called you; Your mom sent a very threatening message. Something about me missing Christmas being a disservice to Baby Jesus-” 

“Thank god,”

Emily heaved out a sigh, letting the umbrella fall completely before she urged forward. She pressed a soft kiss against Aubrey’s lips. She tasted like minty tea laced with honey, fingers pressing into her hips as the embrace deepened. It didn’t’ quite matter that they had been together for upwards of three years now- it still felt new. Still made her heart pound against her wrist and her stomach twist in the best kind of boy scout knot.

“You never answered my question,” Aubrey mumbled into her smile “Wherever did you learn to slam someone against the wall like that?”

Emily groaned, her cheeks heating in embarrassment. “Jessica convinced me to take up a few self-defense classes. I didn’t think I actually retained anything from it.”

“Yeah, well you did.” Aubrey chuckled softly, her nose cold against Emily’s cheek. “So, we’re hosting Christmas this year?”

“It seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Emily tensed once more as a three-toned knock echoed through the apartment. She raised her eyebrows and opened the door to the bright hallway. Beca Mitchell held a golf club in the air, her feet bare and her eyes frantic. Chloe stood with her head in her hands right behind her, still dawned in work clothing.

“I heard a noise,” Beca shifted her hold on the driver “Is everything okay?”

Emily couldn’t help but smile at the girl who had little ducks all over her fuzzy pants. Her expression mean and unassuming. She pulled the door the rest of the way open, Aubrey giving the pair a timid wave. “Aubrey came home for Christmas.”

“Oh!” Chloe lifted both of her eyebrows “That’s great!”

“Isn’t it?” Emily grinned.

It wasn’t. Not this year- this year her whole entire plan was resting on being alone. She wouldn’t’ curl up at the end of the sofa with a book and hot chocolate from the pack, trying to forget the fact that it was a holiday. This year she would be scaling roofs and fighting off guard dogs.

Her family, she could fool. As terrible as it sounds, as long as they had presents and warmth and each other they could forget about anything that didn’t quite add up in Emily’s shiny new life. But Aubrey? Aubrey was factual and precise, she noticed when something was off, including the neighbors who she had only met a handful of times.

“Hi, I like your pants.”

“Yeah, well” Beca let out a shaky sigh and dropped the club to her side “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
